Music Collections
by Musik34
Summary: Series of oneshots. Chapter 15: They won. Post Wannabe in the Weeds. I have not read the spoilers, this is just a little drabble on what could happen to Booth
1. Desert Storm

AN: I guess this is my 'brainchild', because 1) I'm obsessed with music, and 2) I've wanted to do this for a long time. Every aspect of the show will be covered--preseries, futurefics, episodic clips, fictional cases, Booth/Brennan ship, Hodgela, Squint central, Booth/Cam ship, Booth's past, Brennan's past, Brennan's parents--angst, fluff, drama, comedy--I seriously mean everything if I can pin a relationship to the lyrics. Every update will be a oneshot, but because this is a collection, it will forever remain a WIP. As always, reviews feed my imagination!!

AN2: This one is a preseries. Big Angst Alert. But others will be happier, I promise.

"**Bat Country"—Avenged Sevenfold**

(Desert Storm: 1990)

_He who makes a beast out of himself, gets rid of the pain of being a man…_

Nobody had warned him when he enlisted in the army. Sure, his father had discreetly told him that things would get dangerous, that things would get hard. But he never fully delved into what those 'things' were: like the smell of blood mingled with smoke. The constant ringing in one's head from the sharp cracks of gunfire would even resonate in dreams. The screams of agony from a wounded comrade or the people who were killed would haunt.

At base, he had learned how to salute and fire a rifle and march—but the sergeants never taught him how to handle warfare on an emotional level. They were soldiers—pawns, as some of the cynical would say. All they needed to know was how to shoot accurately. So, when it came to the pain, he soon taught himself to push it back and fire his weapon mercilessly—to become an animal.

_Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay.  
I tried to drive all through the night,  
the heat stroke ridden weather, the barren empty sights.  
No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me…_

There were some who had lost their way. You could spot them easily—their eyes held no emotions. They had become robots, and they forgot what taking a human life really meant. Others cried out in their sleep, snapping him awake in his tent. Others mumbled to themselves when they were under enemy shellfire, young voices begging to go back home. He had gritted his teeth, told them to get their damn act together, and that they'd pull through. He remembered chillingly that very few actually made it that night.

This was a wasteland. Nothing but the desert sand whipping into his eyes. Few people knew that bodies lay underneath this very same sand—mass graves from Saddam's massacres and such. But there were others, he realized, that were far more recent—the people that he'd sniped. With every step he had taken on that barren and scorched sand, he knew he was treading on Death.

_Can't you help me as I'm startin' to burn (all alone),  
Too many doses and I'm starting to get an attraction.  
My confidence is leaving me on my own (all alone)  
No one can save me and you know I don't want the attention…_

One night he had almost enjoyed sniping. The s.o.b. had thrown a grenade at him. The deadly blast had missed him by fifteen or so feet, but the concussion had knocked him out. When he came to, his unstable shelter was on fire. He would have burned if he hadn't scrambled out. Out in the open, he knew he would be picked off unless he shot the enemy first. As soon as he spotted an inch of forehead, he made his fatal move—and nailed the other man between the eyes. He had felt a swell of pride and actually cheered. Remembering that a night later, he had almost vomited with self-disgust. He made a vow that he would never take joy in killing, because that would make him worse than the enemy.

_As I adjust to my new sights, the rarely tired lights will take me to new heights.  
My hand is on the trigger, I'm ready to ignite.  
Tomorrow might not make it, but everything's all right.  
Mental fiction, follow me; show me what it's like to be set free…_

Wishing to be free from the violence was like, as his friend from high school quoted, "was like pissing into a fan." Violence would always exist, whether you were a soldier or not. He had seen it everyday. His hand was always on a trigger. He always wondered if he'd make it until tomorrow.

_So sorry you're not here, I've been sane too long, my vision's so unclear,  
Now, take a trip with me, but don't be surprised when things aren't what they seem…_

People said he had changed when he came back to the States on leave. He just couldn't look at simple and carefree things the same way anymore without realizing that there was so much ugliness in the world.

_Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay,  
These eyes won't see the same, after I flip today…_

One day he saw his friend catch a bullet in the gut. He had tried to save him, but the medics were too far away. After pulling bloodied hands away from a lifeless body, he had a momentary breakdown. He had screamed and fired randomly into the general direction of the enemy. It had taken a tranquilizer from his squad leader to shut him the hell up after being dragged back into cover. The incident wasn't taken very serious to heart, mostly because he wasn't the first who became a nervous wreck in the field.

_Sometimes I don't know why we'd rather live than die,  
we look up towards the sky for answers to our lives.  
We may get some solutions but most just pass us by,  
don't want your absolution cause I can't make it right.  
I'll make a beast out of myself, gets rid of all the pain of being a man…_

His faith had traveled to very dark places back then. He had questioned why he was still alive, and why it seemed that God had turned his back on the world. But it was his faith that kept him going, because if he didn't have that, he didn't have anything.

_So sorry you're not here, I've been sane too long, my vision's so unclear,  
Now, take a trip with me, but don't be surprised when things aren't what they seem.  
I've known it from the start, all these good ideas will tear your brain apart.  
Scared, but you can follow me, I'm too weird to live but much too rare to die…_

Yeah, he had changed. But he knew he was better off than some. He was still sane—and best of all—he wanted to live. Even with the pain and guilt. It meant that he was still human…

"Booth? Are you with me here?"

Special Agent Seeley Booth looked up sharply into the irritated face of his partner.

"I heard you, Bones."

"Really—then what did I say?"

He smiled weakly and admitted, "Okay, you got me. I was just…thinking."

Dr. Temperance Brennan softened her glare and didn't reply immediately.

"It's just…a lot of memories, ya know?"

"No, I don't, actually," Brennan answered.

Booth frowned and Brennan quickly explained, "What I mean is, I've never been in the army. That wasn't me being a smartass, I swear."

Booth visibly relaxed and said, "I thought you didn't know what a smartass was."

"I don't, but I'm pretty sure that term was running through your mind ten seconds ago," Brennan smiled.

She turned her attention back to the severely decomposed body before her feet. "Are you sure he committed suicide?" Booth asked.

"Quite sure, the thyr—"

"Can't you just cut to the how?" Booth interjected.

"He hung himself," Brennan said quietly. Silence descended the dark and rank basement they were in. She was trying to avoid a very touchy subject with Booth—but he finally cut through the awkwardness.

"Yes, Bones, I knew him. He wasn't a corporal when I last heard of him—he had been Private Matt Rivers. He was a sniper and a Ranger."

Brennan didn't know what to say, and listened to Booth's flat tone as he continued.

"He…he uh was kind of messed up when he came out of Desert Storm. I was surprised to find out he still stayed with the military."

"Why do you think he did?" Brennan said more to herself than him. But Booth answered anyway.

His voice starting to crack as emotions surfaced, he explained quietly, "Because that was what he only knew how to do. But it ate him up. Poor bastard didn't know what to do and he couldn't handle it anymore. So he took his own life…"

Brennan turned towards him and he cast his eyes to the ground.

"Do you…do you want to talk?" she asked quietly.

He looked up at her, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

"No…no, I'm fine. Really."

She turned her attention back to the corpse. She estimated the body had been decaying for four months. The rope used for the hanging had snapped, leaving the body in a puddle mess. Rivers didn't have anybody in his life, so it took his rotting smell to alert the neighbors. What a way to go.

Her thoughts strayed to Booth. He wasn't fine, and she knew it.

"I can't even imagine what it was like, being a soldier. You told me once that with every shot, a piece of you dies. But this was a long time ago—don't you think it's about time to let your wounds finally heal?" Brennan spoke gently.

When she didn't get an answer, she faced Booth, waiting for a reply. Booth sighed and said, "Practicing on your Nobel Prize speech, Bones?"

Brennan frowned distastefully. "I'm serious."

"So am I. I said I'd be fine."

"Fine," Brennan finished, flustered.

"I'm just going to step out, okay?" Booth said. Brennan just gave a short nod as he headed outside. He stopped at the foot of the stairs for a moment. Her ears picked up a murmured sentenced and she found herself smiling sadly.

"Healing takes awhile. But thanks anyway, Tempe."


	2. Their Song

**AN**: Sorry for the delay! fanfiction wouldn't let me update for like three days. Beware of fluff (with angst memories, but this shot is mostly comical fluff) Reviews feed my inner-writing child!

"**I'll Be"—Edwin McCain**

"Bones? What—wait. Do not touch that!"

"What? This—"

Booth's SUV became filled with the not-so-soothing sounds of 50 Cent. Booth glared irritatingly at his partner.

"You do not touch my car radio—" he reached over to switch the radio back to the hard rock station he had been perfectly content listening to. Brennan swatted Booth's hand away.

"I like this music. Anthropologically speaking, many male rap artists assert—"

"Does it look like I care? Let me reiterate so your thick skull can absorb new information—never, on any circumstances, touch my radio," Booth interjected. He reached over, determined to make his point. Brennan's hand snatched the tuner just as his hand clamped down on the device.

"Bones…" he warned, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

A scrabble of sounds filled the car as the two struggled for control to maintain their preferred choice of music.

And then the unthinkable happened.

There was a distinct 'snap' as the internal plumbing of the radio became jammed, the tuner splintering down the center.

"Sonofabi—" Booth swore

"Look what you did!" Brennan accused.

"What I did? Jesus, Bones…" Booth muttered under his breath. He angrily tried turning the stuck tuner, and when that failed, he swore louder.

"Booth, calm down, just use the preprogrammed stations and push the buttons," Brennan scolded.

"Yeah, thanks Einstein. That would work perfectly if I programmed the stations in the first place. You better hope it's stuck on a GOOD station, because now I can't even turn the damn thing off," Booth threatened.

They stopped bickering for a few moments and impatiently waited for a deejay's announcement. After several more minutes of commercials, with Booth annoyingly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, they got their answer.

"Now, back to the best of soft rock and love songs, on B104 the Nile. Here's Edwin McCain with _I'll Be_…"

Booth groaned and muttered, "You gotta be kidding me."

Brennan couldn't help but smirk as the music filled the car interior.

"_The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful,_

_Stop me and steal my breath…"_

"Thanks a lot, Bones. I'm so screwed—I have to give another agent a ride home after this, and what do you think his reaction is gonna be when he hears 'quick-let's-make-out-before-my-dad-gets-back songs blasting from MY radio?" Booth snorted.

But Brennan wasn't listening, being deep in thought as she listened to the lyrics.

"_Emeralds from mountains thrust toward the sky,_

_Never revealing their depth._

_Tell me, that we belong together,_

_Dress it up with the trappings of love,_

_I'll be captivated,_

_I'll hang from your lips,_

_Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang, from above…"_

"I think this is what Angela calls 'our song'" Brennan concluded.

Booth frowned—he couldn't have heard right. " 'Our song'? Do you even know what that implies, Bones?"

Brennan sat back and shook her head. "Nope. This came on the radio, and she said this was yours and my 'song'. She never fully explained to me what it meant. I just thought it was interesting that a song could be seen as possessive to a group of people…"

"Angela said that this was 'our song'? Looks like I'm gonna have a long talk with her when we get back…" he said, shaking his head.

"_I'll be, your crying shoulder,_

_I'll be your love suicide,_

_And I'll be better when I'm older._

_I'll be the greatest fan of your life…"_

"Well?" Brennan prompted.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to explain the significance of two people having a 'song'?" Brennan drawled out, as if speaking to a four-year-old. She wasn't going to let Booth off the hook. After all, it was his fault the radio broke.

"Many reasons," Booth started, "this is a couple thing. We are not madly in love. People play their 'songs' on wedding days—"

"Marriage is an archaic institution—'

"Will you let me finish? These are the type of songs horny guys play in the background when they try to get their girlfriends to have sex. Since we are not getting married, and we're sure as hell not about to tear each other's clothes off…" Booth smirked.

"I get the point, Booth," Brennan interrupted sharply. She saw his grin widen and knew where his mind was traveling. She ignored it the best she could and tried focusing on the music.

"_Rain falls angry on the tin roof,_

_As we lie awake in my bed._

_You're my survival, you're my living proof,_

_My love is alive, not dead._

_Tell me, that we belong together,_

_Dress it up, with the trappings of love._

_I'll be captivated,_

_I'll hang from your lips,_

_Instead of the gallows of heartache, that hang from above…"_

"If you love me, you'll shoot me now and end my suffering…" Booth groaned. His eyes widened then, as soon as the words slipped from his mouth. Brennan whipped her head around, looking as if she'd been slapped.

"What?!"

"I so did not say that—look at what this damn music is doing! It's subliminal messaging!" Booth groped frantically for an excuse.

"Please tell me, that you did not just mean that," Brennan said cautiously.

"Oh, God, no."

"Good."

"Good."

"_I'll be your crying shoulder,_

_I'll be your love suicide,_

_And I'll be better when I'm older,_

_I'll be the greatest fan of your life…"_

Booth stole a glance at his partner and found her cheeks the shade of scarlet. At the same time, she was stifling a smile. He smirked again.

_"I've been dropped out, burned up, fought my way back from the dead,_

_Tuned in, turned on, Remembered the things that you said…"_

The mood turned solemn for the both of them as their thoughts traveled to past events.

_Booth had been blown up in a bomb meant for me. And he fought his way to me, against the odds and his injuries to help me…_

_Tempe was buried alive. She fought her way out, God, I was so sure I was pulling out a dead woman…_

And the things they said to each other, those moments that meant the world to each of them. As for Brennan…

_Booth whispering soft know-nothings in her ear after her rescue from Kenton. "Shhhh, I'm here, you're okay, it's all over…"_

_Temperance's composure falling apart in McVicar's barn, her carefully balanced world crumbling. "I know who you are, I know," was comfort from Booth, holding her tightly as she sobbed her fears out._

_Booth stumbling for words after the beauty pageant case, settling for the very odd "You're structured very well."_

And for Booth…

_Brennan acknowledging, "I knew you would back me up. I knew you wouldn't make me a liar." _

_Booth had simply answered,"Hmm. How'd you know?"_

_"Because you want to go to Heaven."_

_"But you don't believe in Heaven."_

_"But you do." He had smiled then. And kept on smiling, even after she had left._

_And when he spilled his guts out in Arlington about his past, she had been there for him. Though unspoken, she had shown him she'd cared in so many ways. He had gripped her hand, suddenly feeling as if he were drowning in a raging sea of memories. And she didn't let go..._

_And in church, she told him, "I knew you wouldn't give up." She believed in him._

_- - -_

"_I'll be your crying shoulder,_

_I'll be your love suicide,_

_And I'll be better when I'm older,_

_I'll be the greatest fan of your life…"_

They pulled to a stop as the song ended, leaving a very awkward silence. Booth quickly broke it. "Nope. That wasn't our song."

"Then what is?"

Booth answered exasperatedly, "I just told you why that's physically impossible!"

"Hypothetically, then," Brennan tried.

"My God, Angela created a monster, you just don't get it…"

"I don't know what that means nor care to find out. Hypothetically, what would be our 'song'?" Brennan said casually.

Booth stared at her for a few seconds before answering, "Hot-Blooded."

Before he could elaborate, he exited the car, leaving Brennan to herself.

She smiled, pleased. "I thought so, too."

**AN2**: Hmmmm methinks hot-blooded may show up sometime in the future...


	3. Uncertain Road

AN: Hey! Ya'll know the drill. Next shot will probably be action and adrenaline packed for those getting bored with the angst or sappiness. Reviews are love!

"**The Road I'm On"—3 Doors Down**

_"She said life's a lot to think about, sometimes…_

_when you're living in between the lines._

_And all the stars, they sparkle and shine every day…"_

Just because stars weren't visible during the day, it didn't mean they weren't there.

Just because she seemed content with her life, it didn't mean she felt overwhelmed sometimes.

She tried like hell to remain a cool and rational being. She lived in science—after all, it was grounded in facts and laws. Her comfort zone. But very recently, it was just becoming too hard to stay in the lines of the life she wanted to live.

Or, at least what she thought she wanted…

It was a number of things that trembled her world.

She'd been avoiding writing new chapters of her current novel, and the deadline was rapidly approaching. A rational excuse? She didn't have time to write, especially with the demand of her skills at the Jeffersonian. She was first and foremost an anthropologist. Her work was more important than being a novelist.

But what she was truthfully avoiding was the realization that her fictional characters did mirror real people in her life. To say she was hesitant to connect fiction to life was wrong—to say she was stark terrified would have been the most accurate. After all, she was supposed to keep reality separate from fantasy, and the thought of losing that boundary would further shake her grounded world. If fiction crept into her life, it would make her vulnerable because she was on unfamiliar grounds. And then, who knows what would happen…

Solving cases got to her at times, though she never admit it. She couldn't comprehend how a human being could so willingly terminate another being's life. Whether she was identifying victims of genocides or massacres, or a 4-year-old child in a garbage pit, she could never she the reason 'why'?

Then she remembered she hated psychology.

And then there was Booth. To say that her partnership with him didn't extremely confuse her would be like saying politics don't lie. She wished she could keep telling herself that they were no more than partners and friends…

…and continue to believe it.

_"He said life's so hard to move in, sometimes…_

_when it feels like I'm towin' the line._

_And no one even cares to ask me why,_

_I feel this way…"_

He was so busted.

But what else was he going to do when Cam grasped his hand? His first instinct was to shrink away, unable to ignore Brennan's eyes boring into his skin as she had an epiphany that he was, in fact, sleeping with Cam.

He had tried so hard to keep the relationship a secret. He had been walking a tightrope, trying to keep everything balanced in his life. But now…it was like he did all this work for nothing. A single gesture from Cam had blown it out of the water. But then he had felt guilt, remembering that he was neglecting Cam's moment of need. So, he reluctantly squeezed her hand in assurance, knowing that the secret was out. When asked why he didn't want to make his relationship open in the first place, he said it was a gentlemanly thing to do. Truthfully, he had no idea why he kept it hidden from his partner. Life, he felt, was hard enough already. He didn't need theses feelings of uncertainness invading either.

"_I know you feel helpless now,_

_and I know, you feel alone…_

_That's the same road, the same road that I'm on…"_

Even though her people-reading skills were tragic, she knew Booth felt helpless at times, whether it was trying to decipher scientific terms easily spat out by Brennan and her team, or the feelings of helplessness he got when she was in potential danger, and he couldn't do a damn thing to help her.

Booth knew that Brennan felt alone sometimes. He had caught her staring at Angela and Hodgins, a longing on her face and a hurt in her heart. Though he knew she would say love was a release of serotonin, he knew there was a part of her who wanted to let someone in, and know she wouldn't get hurt.

_"He said life's a lot to think about, sometimes…_

_when you keep it all between the lines_

_of everything I want and I want to find_

_one of these days…"_

What did Booth want in life? Other than catching as many murderers for the number of persons he sniped, he didn't know. And if he was uncertain, then how was he supposed to keep everything between the lines? It was starting to overwhelm him, and he despised that feeling.

"_What you thought was real in life somehow steered you wrong,_

_and now you just keep driving tryin' to find_

_where you belong…_

_And I know, you feel alone,_

_And that's the same road, the same road _

_That I'm on…"_

She was at crossroads. Was she wrong to think that the changes in her life were bad? Was it wrong to think that it was impossible to let her heart and fiction into reality? Was it wrong to re-examine her relationship with Booth?

He was at a crossroads. He knew he needed to find his path. Because is he didn't then his life would spill out of control. And that would make him lose his road altogether.

Maybe he could have a little help trying to find where he belonged, because she was on the same road as him.


	4. 45

"**45"—Shinedown**

He never should have gone alone.

Partnerless, Booth stealthily crept into the abandoned warehouse, his trained ears and eyes picking up every tiny sound and focusing in the dark. His finger rested on the trigger of his gun, his arm extended outward.

He heard a soft thump at the far end of the warehouse and he froze, trying to locate the source. He slowly stepped behind a ten-foot tall stack of stacked wooden crates and hastily wiped the sweat off his forehead. A sudden dread filled his heart, as if he subconsciously knew that he would lose this game of cat and mouse. The air became heavy as he thought, _I never should have come alone…_

But he was. If CNN were able to broadcast the largest blow-out in history, it would have been titled the Battle of Bones and Booth. For a day that should have been filled with joyous disbelief and laughter had turn into tears and yelling. For her, it was her worst nightmare. For him, it turned into a history-repeat.

In fact, the bitter fight had driven the two friends far apart.

He was transferring, a request placed by himself.

And she didn't even seem to care anymore.

He shook his head and forced himself to focus. He started to take a step forward when there was a deafening crash as the stack of crates lurched forward. Instinctively, he jumped back but it was too late. The wood slammed into his side and ribcage, throwing him to the ground as the crates piled on and around his body. His gun slipped out of his hand as he shielded his head, the weapon sliding out of reach by half a foot.

When the avalanche of wood finished, he let an involuntary groan as pain shot up through his legs. He tried to sit up but the weight of the solid wood practically glued him to the ground. He struggled to remove the crate off his arms, and succeeded, allowing him to see his surroundings and determine how much trouble he was in.

Then he heard the flip of a safety from above his head.

_Send away for a priceless gift  
One not subtle, one not on the list  
Send away for a perfect world  
One not simply, so absurd  
In these times of doing what you're told  
You keep these feelings, no one knows  
What ever happened to the young man's heart  
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart…_

"Jason," Booth groaned. It was getting harder to breathe; the crates were literally crushing him.

Jason Rockweiler stood above Booth's trapped form. He shook violently and cried out, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. But I can't let you help me, Agent Booth…it's too late…you shouldn't have jumped from the crates, then I wouldn't have to do this…"

_Stall!_ Booth's mind screamed. "Wait, I know I can still help you, Jason…" Booth tried to sound calm, even as waves of dizziness passed through his head. He remembered to say the panicked man's name again, trying to make a connection.

"No, no, no, this is all my fault…and I dragged so many people into this…that bastard deserved what I did to him, he killed Gracie!!" Jason shrieked.

"You're not listening to me, Jason. I know why you did what you did. Your fiancé was murdered—"

"I found that murdering raping sonofabitch. And all his friends. The newspapers…they say I'm a serial killer, but I'm not…" Jason choked out. "This world…it wasn't Gracie's time…I just wish that I could have seen how absurd this world was, and then I could have saved her…this world is Hell."

Pain flooded the young man's face as he removed a metallic object from his jacket. Booth's eyes widened with sick understanding.

_And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,  
Swimming through the ashes of another life  
No real reason to accept the way things have changed  
Staring down the barrel of a 45_

"You need to go now…bu—but if you want me to write down any final words, I will. Because I'm leaving, too," Jason cried out, waving the deadly weapon, "because there's no real reason why I need to live this life anymore. There's nothing but ashes…"

Booth searched for his gun and saw that it was too far out of reach. No way in hell he was going to die like this. With a burst of adrenaline, he tried to heave himself up.

The crates only moved an inch.

He gasped, his energy spent.

_Send a message to the unborn child  
Keep your eyes open for a while  
In a box high up on the shelf, left for you, no one else  
There's a piece of a puzzle known as life  
Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight…_

Booth was alone, and no one was coming for him. He needed to talk Jason out of his plan.

"Listen to me. This isn't worth it, Jason. It hurts, I know. Having someone you love taken away from you…it hurts so much, but you can't just give up—"

"Please, Agent Booth," Jason interrupted, "don't make this harder than it already is." He aimed the gun, the barrel a foot away from Booth's head. "Do you want me to write anything you want to say?"

So, this was how it was going to be.

Would Tempe keep their child?

That's what tore them apart, the life growing inside her. They had fallen together in bed after a brutal case six months ago, but what would have been dismissed as a mistake, was not. Angela had bounced of the walls when she found out that Brennan and he were finally together.

But then she came to him two weeks ago with the news that she was pregnant. He had been thrilled; she had been devastated. She had been afraid of something, though he never found out what that was.

If she decided to keep the baby, would she tell him of the father he had never known? Would Booth be reduced to memories in a locked box? These questions struck a chord of fear—he couldn't do this to someone he loved. Everyone Brennan had loved disappeared. Would she blame herself for his death? The guilt would eat her soul.

"Agent Booth," Jason prompted, his voice hollowed.

"Please don't do this," Booth answered, shaking his head.

_What ever happened to the young man's heart  
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart_

"The pain hurts too much. I'll be with Gracie soon…" Jason answered hauntingly as his finger itched on the trigger.

_And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,  
Swimming through the ashes of another life  
No real reason to accept the way things have changed  
Staring down the barrel of a 45_

---

"Sweetie, I am so proud of you," Angela said warmly.

Brennan rested her head against the window, staring out into the world. White snow was falling gently, turning the world beautiful. Her hand rested on her stomach subconsciously. She smiled at her friend.

"Thank you…" he face turned serious and she asked, "Do you think Booth will, well you know, talk to me?"

"Hell yes! He loves you so much, Bren. When are you going to tell him that you want to have the baby?" Angela asked.

"I'm going to go to his place tonight, and hopefully he'll be home," Brennan answered.

Angela smirked devilishly, "Oh, how I wish I was a fly on the wall for what'll happen after the 'talk'."

_Everyone's pointing their fingers  
Always condemning me  
And nobody knows what I believe  
I believe_

Brennan swatted Angela's arm lightly and shook her head. She turned somber again and stated, "I never told him why I didn't want the baby in the first place, and it wasn't because I didn't love him…I was afraid that something would happen to either Booth or me, and be in the same situation as I was. No parents…no comfort. But that's a chance, and I know life's full of them. If chance is the price or bringing a life on this planet, I'm willing. Because even if there are some ugly things—" she indicated her head out the window, --"there is beauty."

"Very well said, sweetie."

There was a knock on Brennan's office and she yelled, "Come on in."

The door opened slowly and a tall bearded man stepped forward with the FBI insignia on his jacket. His eyes were weary and his face tired. Brennan frowned and asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm Special Agent Anthony Snyder, and I'm here on behalf of Deputy Director Cullen. I'm afraid, Dr. Brennan, that I have some unsettling news about Special Agent Booth. I'm sorry, but earlier today—"

She stood up straight and marched over to Snyder. "Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say, don't you even dare," her voice trembled.

---

_And I'm staring down the barrel of a 45,  
Swimming through the ashes of another life  
No real reason to accept the way things have changed  
Staring down the barrel of a 45…_

"Look at me!" Booth demanded. "You can't do this. There is someone in my life that I love as much as you loved Gracie, and I haven't told her that in a very long time. Please, do not take this away from me!"

Jason studied Booth's face for what seemed like an eternity. But then he shook his head slowly, and aimed carefully.

The warehouse was filled with the deafening sound of a 45 blast.

---

Brennan stood before the grave, a few roses in her hand. She knelt down, her feet crunching in the snow. After placing the roses gingerly on the ground she whispered, "I wish you could see him…"

She felt odd, talking to an inanimate object. She had asked Booth once, "What do you say to a headstone?" And he told her that sometimes it took awhile, and that it didn't matter what she was saying, but that she was actually talking.

"I just want to know if I'm doing the right thing, now, after…after—" she didn't want to say it.

"Tempe? Are you okay?"

Brennan nodded and turned around, giving a watery smile. "This never gets less odd for me and I'm just remembering…well, you know…"

Before waiting for an answer, she knelt down and whispered to the cold earth, "Life's a chance. The baby is going to be a boy."

She stood, a feeling of satisfaction filling her soul. She was going to be a mother, and the child a son.

She walked away from the tombstone to and hugged the person who accompanied her tightly. "I told my mother that I wish she could have seen you."

Seeley Booth smiled and answered, "I wish she could have seen you now."

She stepped back, allowing him to adjust his weight on the cane he was temporarily using until his wounds from the warehouse fully healed. Until the severe bruising and laceration on his left leg disappeared, he would continue to have a hard time moving around.

"You scared me," Brennan said for the millionth time since he was released from the hospital. He embraced her again, remembering how Jason had cried out and turned the gun on himself.

"I know," he said softly. "But it was you who saved me."

Without looking up she asked, "What do you mean?"

"When he found out that there was someone I love as much as he loved his fiancé, he couldn't do it."

She looked up, her eyes meeting his. "Whatever the reason, you're still here. And we're going to have a child together. That's all that matters right now."

She settled her head back onto his chest.

He kissed the top of her head and said quietly, "Call this a new chapter."

"Where the end will be happy," she sighed.

"I think we can manage that."


	5. Skeletons from the Otherside

**AN: **Sorry for the delay. This one is pretty much Zach-centric. With the Holiday break coming, I'll actually have time to update, lol. Reviews feed the soul.

**OtherSide—Red Hot Chili Peppers**

"Dr. Addy. Dr. Zach Addy. You do realize that I'm gonna keep saying that until you bang your head against a wall."

Zach smiled at Angela, still pumped that he had received his doctorate, even though that had happened two weeks ago. And, no, despite the fact that Angela said the word 'doctor' before his name in every other sentence did not annoy him, rather it reminded and inspired him to be the best he could be. And he knew he wouldn't have made it without her 'expertise'.

"Thank you for helping me. I owe you one, though I don't exactly know what that 'one' thing is. Is 'one' an object or a realistic concept or—"

Angela burst out laughing and interrupted, "God, you're hilarious when you try to act slightly normal." She stifled another outburst surely caused by Zach's blank stare. She grinned once more and patted Zach on the back (open palm, she remembered) and said, "Don't worry about it…DR. ADDY!"

- - -

"Dr. Addy, I need to see you for a moment," Cam smiled. Zach stood from the table where he was studying a seventeenth century skull, looking up expectedly.

"There is a body of a young girl that I need you and the others to identify," Cam stated.

Zach frowned and asked, "How bad is the condition?"

"Actually, it's only in the first state of decomp. A coroner would be able to do this job, but…the body may be Janet Lynn Heckman. Janet is the senator's daughter who disappeared a month ago, and they want the best DC has in this type of situation, and the senator is a major benefactor to this institution…" she paused and frowned, "there is something else, about the body."

"What do you mean?"

"She was found in an abandoned building, with a knife in her hand. It could be foul play, but I looked at the body and it looks like—"

"Suicide," Zach finished.

"If it is, we need to make sure the press doesn't crawl all over it. For the family," Cam said somberly.

"I understand. I can start on it right away."

- - -

It was a suicide, and the body was none other than Janet Heckman.

Zach had been able to identify the cause of death within ten minutes—a severed jugular. And by the angle and force, only Janet herself could do that. And it only took him another ten minutes to match the reference points on the skull to a profile of Janet. That had been two hours ago, and Angela was just finishing up a face composite.

There was a knock and he glance up, seeing Angela holding up a drawing of the seventeen year old's face.

"This is her, alright. She was a bit out of place, her parents being in politics…I couldn't imagine what drove her to thinking that ending her life was the only way out…" Angela said quietly.

Zach studied the picture, the likeness never ceasing to amaze him. Angela had drawn her as the way Janet was last seen. Shoulder-length dyed-blue and black hair cascaded fully, her gray eyes staring out of long bangs. Zach picked out a butterfly tattoo on the side of the neck, and didn't miss the numerous piercings.

But she was beautiful, beneath everything else. What drove her to cut her own throat?

That wasn't the only thing that disturbed him. Janet reminded him greatly of a skeleton in the closet.

Her name was Arwen.

"Zach? Earth to the new doctor? You alright?"

Zach swallowed and quickly answered, "Yes. I was just wondering about Janet's parents."

Angela nodded and added, "They left her out in the dark, it was no secret. She couldn't handle it…don't even think about giving this girl a nickname like you do the others. Like crispy critter for burned bodies—"

"I never was going to," Zach stated flatly. His insides were churning. He just wanted Angela out of the room. She seemed to receive the message telepathically and left the drawing before exiting. Janet's eyes screamed at him…or he should say, Arwen's called to him.

-Lakewood, Michigan—1998-

"Freak!"

Zach felt another fist slam into his abdomen as the ring of his tormentors closed in on him, mocking and ridiculing him.

"What the hell is a fifteen year old doing in the senior grade? Freak!"

"Because I'm intelligent!" Zach cried out. Wasn't it obvious why he was a senior?

Instead of answers or retorts, Zach received more hits, each one seemingly becoming more painful. He felt himself stumble to the ground as the gravel bit into his arms. And then he heard her voice.

"Corey! Get away from him, you ass!"

Corey whipped around, anger clouding his face. "What do you want?"

"You heard what I said!" she called out. Zach looked up at the girl, thankful. Corey and the three others abandoned him and circled the intruder.

"You got a lot of balls, skank," Corey spat.

She looked at him, smiled, and slammed her foot directly into his groin. He doubled over immediately. The others stepped forward but stopped as soon as she revealed a hidden switchblade from her jeans. Zach's mouth nearly dropped to the ground.

"I suggest you get out of here, now," she smiled sweetly.

They backed off, slowly while dragging their groaning comrade. After they disappeared, the young woman leaned over and helped Zach to his feet. He was still speechless.

"Your welcome," she snorted, after he continued to stare blankly at her.

He tore his stare off her blue and purple dyed hair and her numerous piercings and forced himself to look in her eyes, which were gray and cold.

"I…um…thanks."

She shook her head, revealing two small crescent moons on her neckline. "You are a freak. Uh, hello? Do you want to take a picture, it'll last longer."

Zach frowned. "What?"

She rolled her eyes and started to walk away.

"Wait! I really mean it when I say thanks…you just took me by surprise, that's all…I'm Zach Addy," he called out.

She stopped and turned around. "You know…just a hint for the future, don't have some smartass answer or guys like Corey. I know who you are…I'm Arwen."

He wiped a little trickle of blood from his nose and nodded. "Are you a senior, too?"

She laughed and said, "Nah. I'm a sophomore, though I should be a junior. Hey, you can pay me back for this by doing my homework or something."

"Okay." He said it almost too quickly. He was attracted to her, in an odd sort of way. She stood about five foot six, and the nearly skin-tight leather jeans she was wearing made it clear that she was slender. Zach felt himself blushing.

Then he noticed her arms. Her skin was pale, so he could see the marks easily.

"What happened to your wrists?" he asked.

She frowned and quickly looked down at the thin red scabs on her flesh. She hid them and muttered, "None of your damn business."

"_How long, how long will I slide?__  
Separate my side, I don't…  
I don't believe it's bad,  
Slit my throat  
It's all I ever…"_

Zach couldn't seem to get her of his mind after that first encounter. He'd smile at her in the halls at school, and even though she wouldn't return the gesture, her eyes seemed to lift some internal darkness.

He liked that.

And one day, she finally talked to him again. "I said take a picture already."

Zach had just smiled and shook his head. Even he realized he was starting to look weird, always staring at her. "Sorry. I'm not that good with people. I can't talk to them without being labeled a 'freak'…and I've been told numerous times I take things too literally."

Arwen laughed and added, "Ain't that the truth. How about I help you with that friend thing?"

Zach really liked that.

Within a week, he could have written a novel on her likes and dislikes. She loved underground punk and metal. She despised country music. She had four tattoos, ten piercings (mostly contained her ears). She got uncomfortable talking about her parents. She got uncomfortable talking about her ex-boyfriends. She hated politics. She loved the arts. She wanted to be a singer in a rock group.

Oh, and she was beautiful. But he already knew that from the start.

And then he heard of the other things. The things that made his stomach churn and his mind reel. He knew Arwen partied. Hard. He didn't need to be good with people to immediately see that she never wanted to go home, though he didn't understand why. And he knew that the reputation Arwen had embodied a number of vulgar terms, usually hissed or whispered when she sauntered by. He'd pick up on the common phrase, "She's been around the block." And what was worse was that he understood what that implied.

"Where are you going?"

"To Brad's. Why?"

Zach became flustered, "Well, it's a school night. And isn't Brad in college?"

Arwen had laughed, brushing him off. "Come on, Zach. You of all people should know that I can handle myself. Quit acting like a mother."

"But…"

"Bye Zach."

There he stood in the middle of a Pizzaroma, watching as she changed from waitress to party-girl. She told him to go home, that she'd see him tomorrow, like he was some child. She was only a year and a half older than him, and that alone annoyed him.

And he was worried. For her.

So he did the most unlikely-Zachish thing he could ever recall doing. He followed her.

At that party, he had stuck close to the shadows, just watching Arwen. It sickened him, watching what she was doing to herself. After a fourth beer, she started stumbling around. The guys sneered and Zach felt rage toward them. They grabbed her ass, and she didn't even flinch—just give that same careless laughter. Zach bit back a cry of protest as she took several long drags of a joint. And then he saw something he couldn't ignore.

Corey had snickered and pulled something out of his jean pocket. He came up to Arwen, distracting her while at the same time he popped a capsule into her drink. In four long strides, Zach was across the room and pulling Arwen away.

"Zach! What? Wh-what the hell you doin here?!" she slurred.

"It's time to go," he had said flatly.

She wrenched her hand away, quite easily. "Get your fucking hands off me!"

He had spun around. "Corey just put _Rohypnol _in your drink!"

"Huh?"

"Date-rape drug, you moron! Don't you listen in health class!?"

The music had stopped. The people stared. Corey looked pissed.

"We're going, now," he demanded.

They made it out the door before she vomitted on him.

"_I heard your voice through a photograph, _

_I thought it up, it brought up the past, _

_Once you know you can never go back, _

_I've got to take it on the otherside_…"

-DC 2007-

An hour later Zach had taken his lunch-break, taking a taxi to his apartment above Hodgins' garage. But instead of eating, he dug out a dusty photo album, finding the picture immediately when it fluttered out.

Two faces smiled up at him, heads touching. Arwen had taken the photograph, a quick snapshot preserving that moment of tranquility where two friends forgave each other for a fight past. He remembered the past clearly.

-Michigan 1998-

"Zach? Can I talk to you, please?"

"Go ahead," he had said curtly.

He didn't even face her, just continued staring out over the lake he lived near. At first, Arwen didn't say anything. She sat next to him, gazing out over the water.

"I'm sorry."

Zach stole a glance at her. She continued, "And I never was able to say thanks for what you did."

"I was worried," he finally said softly.

"I know," she almost whispered. He felt her eyes boring into his side. He finally looked at her fully. He was swept up in a crushing hug. He returned the gesture, sighing with a sudden release of tension.

"So we're good, now?" she asked, her voice muffled in his jacket.

"Yes."

"Good."

And that was when she took the photograph.

"_Centuries are what it meant to me, _

_A cemetery where I marry the sea, _

_Stranger things could never change my mind,_

_I've got to take it on the otherside, _

_Take it on the otherside, _

_Take it on, _

_Take it on…" _

"When I get out of here, I'm gonna live close to an ocean. I've always loved the sea," Arwen had said suddenly.

"Michigan that bad?"

"Hell yes. I can't wait to split. Nothing will change my mind…what about you?"

Zach shrugged. "I'm planning on going to college for forensic anthropology. So yes, I'm 'splitting', too."

"Working with bones. You're creepier than I am," she snorted. "Stranger things have happened."

It was then that he noticed the same thin red cuts on the undersides of her arms and wrists. He took her hands in his, and inspected them closely before she jerked away.

"Who is doing that to you?" he asked gravely.

"Zach…how many times do I have to tell you not to worry about it," she answered warily. "I you really want to know, it's just my way of getting to the other side."

"What's that?"

"Don't worry about it."

"_How long how long will I slide? _

_Separate my side I don't, _

_I don't believe it's bad, _

_Slit my throat _

_It's all I ever…"_

And he dropped it. Looking back, he knew he was stupid. He should have done something, knew that Arwen was in trouble. He had failed her, looking back on it now.

"_Pour my life into a paper cup, _

_The ashtray's full and I'm spillin' my guts, _

_She wants to know am I still a slut, _

_I've got to take it on the otherside…"_

She seemed to have come to a decision that day. As it turned out, she did more than just marijuana and alcohol. Methadone. Sometimes heroin. And that day at the lake, she confided in him about the darker sides of her life. She told him she was going to stop. But she knew withdrawal would be hard. She asked him not to tell anyone, just be there for her if she wavered.

He'd agreed.

And it was hard. She developed mood swings. Quite a few times he saw her become overcome with the shakes. She said she felt like dying. He believed he was being a good friend by keeping his promise and alerting adults. He would have never known that he was hurting her more. He caught a glimpse of her family life when her mother barged in the Pizzaroma, drunk, demanding that she come home. When Arwen didn't move, she cried out that her daughter was a slut and a cokewhore.

And Zach just stood on the sidelines, watching Arwen crack.

"_Scarlet starlet and she's in my bed, _

_A candidate for my soul mate bled, _

_Push the trigger and pull the thread, _

_I've got to take it on the otherside, _

_Take it on the otherside, _

_Take it on, _

_Take it on…"_

A week after the scene in the Pizzaroma, Arwen had a relapse.

And she would have died of an overdose if Zach hadn't found her.

She was lying sprawled on the bathroom floor, her mother gone, a bottle of sleeping pills next to her head. He had dragged her to the shower, hoping that the cold water would rouse her. When it did, she threw up, emptying most of the drugs before they reached her bloodstream.

"My, God, Arwen—hold on, I'm calling 911," he had whispered in her ear.

"No!" she had croaked, coughing as she shook.

He became infuriated, with her and himself all at once. "You almost died! You need help, Arwen! I'm not going to watch my only friend destroy herself any longer."

She stood to her feet, wavering slightly and shuddered, "You don't even know what having a friend means. You hate me; I know it. If you're my friend, you won't ruin my life by having me known as 'oh-look-it's-the-girl-who-almost-killed-herself-accidentaly-let's-pity-her-until-she-dies!"

He had stood speechless. Everything she had just said cut him and was contradictory. He fumbled for words, couldn't find the right thing to say. And to add to the overwhelming confusion, she suddenly leaned forward, kissing him and crying all at once.

He kissed her back, wishing he could take away the pain. He never felt this conflicted in his life, and he felt like dying himself. That night, he ended up in bed with her, that 911 call never coming. Help would never come. He had lied with Arwen curled next to him, sleeping deeply. He questioned his own life, wondering how life would be like if he went to the otherside. He didn't understand why Arwen was drawn into it in the first place. But one look at the cuts on her arms erased any ideas of possibly joining her. He had wanted to take some of her pain away—that wouldn't be the way.

Weren't they a couple.

"_How long how long will I slide? _

_Separate my side I don't, _

_I don't believe it's bad, _

_Slit my throat, _

_It's all I ever…"_

Things became worse. They hadn't hit rock-bottom yet. Zach remembered that fateful day like it was yesterday. He couldn't stand knowing that she was cutting herself, and he confronted her.

"_Turn me on take me for a hard ride, _

_Burn me out leave me on the otherside, _

_I yell and tell it that, _

_It's not my friend, _

_I tear it down I tear it down, _

_And then it's born again…"_

"Damn it, Zach, I can't help it!" she had screamed.

"I can't watch you do this, you need help," he had tried helplessly.

"It's not my friend, the drugs. I'm fighting it, you just have to trust me," she cried.

"I'm sorry…" Zach had shaken his head.

"I hate you! You can't tell anyone, you bastard! Why, huh!"

"Because I care," Zach quavered, trying like hell not to cry with her. He reached out for her and she backed away.

"Get out. Now!" she had demanded. He nearly had run out of the house, his throat tight and his heart almost shattered. He would get her help, he thought.

But there was something he wasn't counting on.

Arwen cut her own throat that night.

-DC 2007-

He shook his head, rubbing his face as he gazed at the photo.

"_How long how long will I slide? _

_Separate my side I don't, _

_I don't believe it's bad, _

_Slit my throat,_

_It's all I ever…"_

He reached over to the phone and made a call to the operator. There was something he needed to do.

He was surprised to find he didn't have to take a taxi that far. Only an hour. He had called Cam lying that he must have gotten food poisoning, and he wouldn't able to return to work that day.

He still couldn't believe that of all the places in the world, his destination was only an hour away. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was something else that science couldn't explain.

The taxi turned off the main road and drove for another mile or so before pulling up to a beach-house. He grimaced as he saw the total, but didn't think too much about it. There were more important things at the moment.

He strode purposefully to the front door, but halted at the last moment. He had no idea what was to come, and that frightened him. Swallowing his hesitation, he knocked three times and waited.

The door opened a crack as someone peeked out. The gray eyes squinted than widened. The door flew open as Arwen rushed out and hugged him, squealing, "Zach!!!!!"

Once again, he found himself at a loss for words. That only seemed to happen when she was around.

She stepped back, a wide grin plastered on her face. Her hair was no longer dyed, rather it was in its natural chestnut hue. Her eyes were lively and happy. Her skin glowed with health, and Zach found himself relieved and thankful at once.

"Hey, Zach."

"Huh…what?"

"Take a picture already."

- - -

"God, it's been forever," Arwen said as she set down a cup of coffee for Zach.

"Feels like it," Zach agreed.

"Looks like you got what you wanted. You're a doctor now, right?"

"Yeah, I became one a couple weeks ago. I work at the Jeffersonian. But look at you, you got what you wanted. You're a mile from the Bay," Zach noted.

"That's not all. I sing, too, at a café. And the money doesn't bite, to boot…" she stopped.

"What is it?"

"Well…this is going to sound stupid…but what brought you here?"

Zach became flustered and fumbled, "I saw someone who reminded me of you when you were well…you know."

"Screwed up beyond repair? You can say it, Zach," Arwen said easily.

He paused, taking a breath. "I'm so sorry I never did anything. And for leaving you that night, and for not finding out what happened after they released you from the hospital…"

"Nothing really happened. Social services took over, got me some help. Moved me out of Michigan. Go figure," she said distantly. It was then Zach noticed the thin scar on her neck that ran about four inches. She had tried to kill herself that night, but she didn't have the will power to do it. There was still some part of her that loved life, no matter how hard it was.

"And you did do something for me, Zach, so don't tell yourself any different."

He waited for her to elaborate.

"You cared."

"_How long I don't believe it's bad _

_Slit my throat _

_It's all I ever."_


	6. Deals

AN: My head's spinning. It's close to 2 AM. I wrote this shot in one sitting. Arwen makes a cameo (she's in the last shot) Sorry it took forever to update, but thanks for sticking with me. Feedback would save my sanity right now.

**Chapter 6: "Running Up that Hill"—Kate Bush**

"What the hell where you doing with that guy?!"

"Jack, will you listen to me for a second—"

"Oh, no, babe, I don't need to listen to whatever excuse you have—I saw everything!"

Angela shook her head, fighting back a surge of panic and helplessness. She waved her arms aimlessly, words trying to form into coherent sentences. "Why are you trying to jump to conclusions?"

Hodgins answered quietly, "Jumping to conclusions? For a few minutes you looked like you wanted to jump that guy's bones. So excuse me if I'm a just slightly bent out of shape."

Angela stood straighter and stiffly asked, "So you're not going to let me explain."

"I don't think so."

Angela's posture immediately softened as her shoulders collapsed with pain and defeat. She wiped a tear from her eye and said, "You're unbelievable…"

"Yeah well, I find it unbelievable that you'd do something like that. You didn't even deny hanging all over him," Hodgins sneered. "You're my girlfriend, and I maintain the right to be thoroughly pissed off if you cheat—"

"I never cheated on anybody, Jack!" she snapped. Furiously, she swiped at her eyes once more and pushed past Hodgins. If she hadn't been wearing heels and a dress she would have ran.

If she had it her way, she wouldn't even be going to the annual gala she and her fellow co-workers were forced to attend yearly. She found it hard to believe that half an hour earlier Hodgins had declared that she looked incredibly beautiful, and he was honored to be with her that night. She found it harder to believe that this one fight could drive them away.

- - -

"Camille…I swear, you owe me. Hugely."

Cam flashed Booth a smile and answered, "How about I make it up to you tonight?"

Booth forced himself to smile back, but he felt nothing about her suggestion. He scanned the crowd and found Brennan sitting at a table with Zach, looking as if they each would rather be dead than at the gala.

Booth knew how they felt. Cam had dragged him along.

It's not like their relationship was a secret. But he still felt extremely awkward. He needed to get away from his "date".

As if God was listening, Cam suddenly said, "Oh wow, I haven't seen Dr. Chase for months. He and I worked together at my last job for years. I wonder what he's doing here…since you look like you'd rather be sticking a knife in an electrical socket than be here, do you mind if I go over and catch up? You could make a getaway for at least twenty minutes before I drag you back?"

She flashed him another smile, and this time he returned a genuine one. As soon as she turned her back on him he made a beeline to where Brennan and Zach were sitting.

"You know Bones, I'm starting to wonder if I have the lowest IQ in the room. Every conversation I pass and all I catch is 'muhwuhmuhwuhmuh'" Booth sighed as he sat.

Brennan stared blankly. "I guess that's what happens if you do have a lower IQ than the rest of the people hear."

"Ha. I was imitating the teachers and adults from Charlie Brown. They never talk, just make that sound?" Booth shook his head.

Zach laughed. "I actually understand that."

Booth put his hands together in mock-prayer and said "Thank you, lord, for letting Zach experience Charlie Brown. Now give me the strength to handle Bones."

"Where's Cam?"

That ended Booth's short-lived merriment. "She's catching up with an old friend," he said stiffly.

"Oh."

"What's 'oh' supposed to mean?" he grilled.

Brennan felt a smirk creep unto her face. "Sorry. I forgot you were still sensitive about your relationship…"

Booth rolled his eyes and then proceeded into trying to stare her down into silence. He only found himself staring at the way she looked. It almost took his breath away—the soft black silk and satin dress she wore hung low, revealing milky skin and to Booth's happiness, a fair amount of cleavage. He shook his head and quickly focused on her face before she could detect what he was thinking. And once again, he found it hard to remember breathing. Her eyes looked at him warmly as she patted his hand and mocked gently, "I loved Charlie Brown. I was wondering why you even had to think your IQ was the lowest in this room."

"Wow, even if that hurt, I think you pulled a funny on me. I am sooo proud of you," Booth grinned.

"Hate to interrupt, but does anyone know where Dr. Hodgins and Angela are?" Zach piped in.

Brennan sat back and shrugged her shoulders. "Last time I checked she was trying to arrange a surprise for Hodgins."

"What kind of surprise?"

"I think some sort of anniversary gift. They've been dating for six months now, and she felt like she needed to do something for him," Brennan yawned. "They should be here any second."

Sure enough, she caught a glimpse of Angela entering the ladies' restrooms. Hodgins came around a corner, a sour look plastered on his face as he quickly ordered a vodka shot.

"Ooh, that's not good," Booth observed.

Brennan frowned, "No. It isn't. I'll be right back."

- - -

"Oh, sweetie, I don't know what to do!"

"Ange, calm down. Tell me what happened," Brennan urged gently.

Angela looked into her friend's face, at a loss. "He's such an ass! Tonight was supposed to be special, and he ruined it. I never met such a jealous bastard in my life!"

"This is about Hodgins."

"I-I got him a gift. You know, the half-year mark. That was for after the gala. But I wanted to do something now. I was trying to get a song played later on when they have the dances. You know, so Jack and I could actually have a 'song.' The deejay said he couldn't take requests, but I knew if I kept asking he would relent. Jack took it as flirting too much, and accused me of cheating. All I did was smile nice and…"

"And…" Brennan prompted.

"It was just to say thank you, because the deejay changed his mind. I gave him a little peck on the cheek, that's all. Jack was watching. And he didn't give me a chance to explain," Angela finished softly.

Brennan nodded and wracked he brain for a solution. "Is the song still going to play?"

Angela shook her head and said, "I cancelled it."

"We're going to fix that."

- - -

Hodgins downed another shot. He hurt. Bad. It wasn't like he was over the moon for Angela. How could she do that to him? Hell, she was in his last waking moments before being pulled out of that god-forsaken car. He loved her so much, but now it felt like his heart was tearing apart piece by piece.

The lights dimmed suddenly and a voice came onto the loudspeakers.

_"Every year we play a couple of songs for any couples that may be out there. So don't be shy, and come on out. It's tradition, you can say. Breaking tradition slightly this year we have a special request for Dr. Jack Hodgins and Angela Monternegro. Playing now is Placebo's cover for Kate Bush's song, "Running Up That Hill. Come on out you two!"_

Hodgins froze as he felt all eyes turn towards him. He spun slowly, wishing someone would shoot him at that moment. What the hell was she doing? Hadn't she put him through enough this evening?

He spotted her then, on the dance floor. In front of her at a table he saw Booth mouthing, _"Get your ass up there, man!"_

Hodgins' feet automatically made their way to the clearing as the music picked up, casting a soft rhythm. Their eyes met and he sighed. Without feeling he placed his hands on her waist as the song picked up more.

_"It doesn't hurt me.  
You wanna feel how it feels?  
You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?  
You wanna hear about the deal I'm making?  
You, be running up that hill  
You and me, be running up that hill…"_

"You don't have to say anything. Just let me talk," Angela whispered as more people came onto the dance floor. Hodgins didn't answer. He was torn between leaving and hearing her out.

Love won out and he stayed.

"I…I made a deal. With myself. With you. With whatever forces that power destiny. I said that if we ever found you and Brennan after…after the Gravedigger, I wouldn't push you away anymore," she said softly.

_And if I only could,  
Make a deal with God,  
And get him to swap our places,  
Be running up that road,  
Be running up that hill,  
Be running up that building.  
If I only could, oh..."_

He saw her eyes water as she said, "I remembered thinking I'd give anything to switch places with you. I knew you were hurt from the blood…and it scared me so much, Jack. I thought that I lost my second chance, like I did with Kirk…"

She stopped and bit her lower lip, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She needed to tell him before he walked away.

_You don't want to hurt me,  
But see how deep the bullet lies.  
Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.  
There is thunder in our hearts, baby.  
So much hate for the ones we love?  
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?..._

"I know I hurt you tonight, and I am so sorry. There was nothing in what you saw. Today it has been exactly six months since we've been together. I was trying to get a song for us. This one. For us. God, please tell me you understand, that you know I love you, and—

"Ange, stop," Hodgins said quietly. Angela bit her lower lip again, her heart pounding as if thunder raged within.

"I-I know I didn't give you a chance to explain…" he smiled weakly and said, "at that moment, I forgot what mattered. Think you can forgive me?" He didn't care anymore. Just hearing her voice made his crack with emotion. He hoped she could forgive him, because he had already forgiven her. It scared him to death knowing he almost pushed her away.

_You, be running up that hill  
You and me, be running up that hill  
You and me won't be unhappy…_

She finally wiped her eyes and embraced him tightly. He held her, taking in her aroma and warmth. Things would be okay…

_And if I only could,  
Make a deal with God,  
And get him to swap our places,  
Be running up that road,  
Be running up that hill,  
Be running up that building,  
If I only could, oh..."_

"Did you really make a deal?" Hodgins whispered. Angela nodded, remembering.

Hodgins added, "So did I."

_'C'mon, baby, c'mon, c'mon, darling,  
Let me steal this moment from you now.  
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,  
Let's exchange the experience, oh...'_

Brennan smiled as she watched the scene play out between her closest friend and Hodgins. She knew then that the outcome would be fine. Her eyes scanned the dance floor, and she was surprised to see Zach with a young woman. He had mentioned earlier that he had a date, but she didn't quite believe him. Arwen was supposed to be her name…she shook her head and continued scanning the group of couples until they rested on Booth and Cam.

She felt a sudden heaviness in her heart that took her by surprise. And it hurt, much to her confusion.

_And if I only could,  
Make a deal with God,  
And get him to swap our places,  
Be running up that road,  
Be running up that hill,  
With no problems…_

Booth lifted his eyes and found Brennan staring at him. She became flustered, stood suddenly and left.

_If I only could, be running up that hill…_

His eyes closed, trying to erase the image. He didn't run after her.


	7. Run

**AN: **Fanfiction review and story alerts aren't working for me, so I just want to say thanks to all who are reviewing. You guys are great.

**AN2:** Character death warning.

**AN3:** I think this is a beautiful song. I wish I knew what inspired the guy to write it.

_"RUN—Snow Patrol"_

_I'll sing it one last time for you,_

_Then we really have to go,_

_You've been the only thing that's right,_

_In all I've done…_

"You really should wait here."

"Why?"

Booth shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Brennan's eyes pierced his questionably.

"Call it a gut feeling," he admitted. He knew the argument was weak, and that she would dismiss it almost immediately.

"Booth…you need me out there. I know what type of soil we're looking for," Brennan supplied.

"Couldn't we have had Hodgins do that? Why isn't he here?" Booth stalled.

"He's sick. According to Angela, he can barely get out of bed. Besides, the soil is easy enough to find, if you know what you're looking for. We have a warrant. There should be no problems, so stop worrying."

Booth gave a tight smile. "Yeah…I guess…"

_And I can barely look at you,_

_But every single time I do,_

_I know we'll make it anywhere,_

_Anyway from here…_

She practically hopped out of his car, ready to nail the bastard who'd murdered seven children. They needed this evidence to tie the man to the crimes, and Booth and Brennan knew that. He watched as she strode purposefully to the house, snapping on latex gloves. His smile relaxed as the dread disappeared from his stomach. Looking at her always seemed to put him at ease, unless she was chasing after a criminal or being pulled out of the ground. Those times were the hardest because he couldn't help imagine the worst.

But she'd beat the bad guys to a bloody pulp. He pulled her out from the dirt. And he knew, they could make it out anywhere, anytime…

_Light up, light up,_

_As if you have a choice,_

_Even if you cannot hear my voice,_

_I'll be right beside you dear…_

_Louder, louder,_

_And we'll run for our lives,_

_I can hardly speak I understand,_

_Why you can't raise your voice to say…_

But that didn't happen that day.

Booth stared blankly as the coffin was lowered into the near-frozen earth. A sling supported his arm and shoulder; the bullet wound healing nicely, even though he would no longer have feeling, the nerves damaged beyond repair.

Booth could hear open sobs around him as their hearts grieved for Tempe Brennan. He was stuck in a nightmare, he had thought.

She had smiled at him when she said she'd be out back searching for the soil samples while he presented the warrant. The dread had entered his stomach again when he began knocking on the thick wood door. A sudden feeling of panic rose in his chest and he called out Brennan's name just as muted _pfhts_ filled the air.

Sprinting around the house, he had felt the bullet impact his shoulder as he came across the crazed owner firing a silencer. Booth gritted his teeth in agony as he whipped his own weapon out fired.

He missed. Only the third time in his career. The bullets stopped when the owner's chamber emptied and when the owner decided to high-tail it.

Booth watched with fogged vision as the owner disappeared into the forest.

And then Booth saw her.

_To think I might not see those eyes,_

_Makes it so hard not to cry,_

_And as we say our long goodbye,_

_I nearly do…_

He had half crawled, half scrambled his way to her.

"Bones! Jesus, Temperance!!"

He could see with sickening clarity that her entire shirt was soaked in red and inky black blood. Her eyes stared vacantly into the sky with her mouth twitching as tears formed in her eyes.

Booth unsuccessfully applied pressure with his one working arm. A gutteral moan rose in her throat as more tears spilled from her eyes as she lay unmoving.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," Booth had gasped. By then, he was feeling lightheaded and dizzy. He knew he was going into shock.

"Tempe…Tempe…Bones, come on look at me, please," Booth had pleaded. Her eyes flickered to his when he called her by her nickname.

"I'm going to call for help, kay? Hang on," he had croaked.

A dullness washed over her pupils then. She seemed to stare past him then. She struggled then to say something, and only succeeded by mouthing the word, 'bye'.

With as much strength as he could muster, "Don't say that."

Her eyes flicked back to his once more and she gave a slight nod.

"That's my girl."

He leaned down the best he could and kissed her forehead before making his way back to the car. Her eyes met his, filled with sadness as he left.

Those were the last time he saw any life in them.

_Light up, light up,_

_As if you have a choice,_

_Even if you cannot hear my voice,_

_I'll be right beside you dear…_

_Louder, louder,_

_And we'll run for our lives,_

_I can hardly speak I understand,_

_Why you can't raise your voice to say…_

No. This wasn't a nightmare. This was real. Brennan was dead. Because he couldn't protect her.

He had gone back to her, after weakly radioing for help. He saw her vacant eyes and felt the coldness that encased her skin. And he knew then, that she would stay like that.

When the medics found him, he had been delirious with pain and shock, grief and anger. He couldn't understand why his Bones wasn't talking to him, why she wasn't listening to his voice as he pleaded for her life.

It was only after he saw her being placed in a body bag that he realized she was really dead.

_Slower, slower_

_We don't have time for that,_

_I just want to find an easier way,_

_To get out of our little heads…_

_Have heart my dear,_

_We're bound to be afraid,_

_Even if it's just for a few days,_

_Making up for all this mess…_

"Holy Mother of Mary! This is almost five grand!"

Booth stared coldly at the man before him.

"Where is Nick Lazo? I heard you know where he's hiding. And that you don't like him, Jack," Booth stated.

Jack nodded his head as he stared in awe at the wad of cash. "Yeah…about three weeks back I loaned him about a grand. He said he got into trouble…"

His eyes met Booth's eyes and said, "With you right? He do that to your shoulder?"

Booth didn't acknowledge as Jack shrugged, "Anyway, guy skipped out. I found him a couple a days ago, was going to get the grand myself. But, uh, I'd be happy to let you take care of the problem for this," he finished, waving the money around.

"Where is he?"

"On 12th and Semper. Apartment 2B."

- - -

He was going to fix the mess he created. He knew the consequences. Which was why he was more than willing to pony up five grand. And he also knew that what he was about to do would more than likely send his soul into purgatory after he was gone.

And he didn't care.

The door to 2B loomed in front of him, and he wasted no time in kicking down the door, his gun drawn.

Darkness welcomed him as he searched the apartment. His trained eyes picked up movement immediately, but he wasn't prepared for three sudden sledgehammers to his chest. He stumbled back into the dimly lit hallway, reeling. He backed into the wall and collapsed, dazed. He looked down and saw that he had not been hit by hammers, but by bullets.

Lazo stepped out of the shadows, grinning. "Should've known you come looking for me. After your girlfriend and all—"

Faster than what Lazo could blink, Booth used his last reserves of energy and whipped his gun up, pulling the trigger rapidly. Each of the six bullets pounded into Lazo's cranium. Booth could hear screams from the other apartments as the blasts echoed. Lazo landed on the floor with an audible 'thud'.

Booth tried to breath but his chest didn't seem to work. Very quickly, his vision disappeared.

_So, this is what death is._

_Lord, what have I done?_

Shame was the only feeling he had left. The people he loved entered his brain, Parker the first. What had he done? And this sure as hell wasn't the way to honor Tempe.

_Booth…just let it go…_

The pain was disappearing. The shame evaporated. He could have sworn he felt someone place two fingers on his neck, muttering, "This guy's gone."

_Hear my voice…_

His vision returned instantly, but no to the bloodied hall. He was enveloped in warmth, a peace he had never felt before in his life.

And then he saw Temperance.


	8. Broken

**AN**: Spoilerish, if you haven't seen the newest episode. Even though I didn't care too much for the Cam/Booth ship, I felt like I needed to write this. It's very short, kinda like a missing scene. I've been listening to Full of Grace by Sarah McLachlan so I'm in angsty mood. And a songfic is born...

**AN2:** For those reading my fic "Boom" I have not forgotten to update. Every 5 years I get a nasty bout of writer's block, but it's almost over! I have the outline, I just need to actually write it. Sorry for the delays.

**AN3:** Artist is Seether and Amy Lee

"_I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away  
I keep your photograph and I know it serves me well  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

_You've gone away, you don't feel me, anymore…_

Booth stepped out of the hospital, his face unreadable to any who cared to look. He sat heavily on a bench wondering if he made the right decision. The look of confusion and pain on Cam's face hit him harder than he could have known. He'd hurt her, once again. Whether or not she tried to tell him Epps caused all this chaos, in his mind, it was still Booth's fault that she skipped protocol. Because she was emotionally attached. He put his face in his hands, thanking God that she hadn't died because of him. But he still felt broken, and he knew she was, too.

_The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

_  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

Cam stared quietly at the wall, fighting like hell not to cry. For the second time that week she felt like she was drowning. She had sat, stunned, when he told her very softly, almost regretfully, that they couldn't continue like this. She understood his reasoning, but she despised the truth in it. That their relationship was very high-risk. He was gone now. And it felt wrong.

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

_You've gone away  
You don't feel me here anymore_


	9. Breaking Through

_AN: _This song made me bawl, cuz it was in a memorium video.

_"Dripping"--Submersed_

_Find_ _me__  
Want to want  
Never  
What you see  
Calling, calling  
The depth becomes  
Grab a hold of my face  
So numb_

He smelled gasoline, felt blood dripping down the side of his face. He was upside down, the car hanging over the bridge. His breathing was raspy and his mind dazed. He remembered fighting with her. He had made her cry. He drove off in a fit of fury…and then he couldn't remember anymore. He felt numb. No one was there for him. He was going to die alone.

_Soar far fly away  
I'm breaking through to you  
Soar far fly away  
I'm breaking through to you_

He remembered seeing her for the first time. He never thought they'd come together. He didn't want to die, and he gasped a choking cry at the thought of leaving her alone. He needed her and she needed him.

_Touch you  
Feel the cold  
Friendships  
Grow so old  
Difference, difference  
Never to know  
Clearing my mind  
As I go…_

Memory sparks fired off in his brain. The first time he made love to her. Their daughter Gracie. How much their Squint team had become a family. His mind started to clear, and he knew he was on the verge of losing everything.

_Soar far fly away  
I'm breaking through to you  
Soar far fly away  
I'm breaking through to you_

He heard voices. Felt something tug on his arms and chest. Heard a crash, but didn't feel the impact.

_To you  
Breaking through  
Breaking through  
Breaking through  
To you  
To you_

He thought he heard her crying. And it broke his heart. He didn't know where he was. Hell. Heaven. Limbo. He didn't know. But he wanted to stay with her. _  
_  
_Breaking through to you  
Breaking through  
Breaking through_  
_You take away my mind  
I'll take away your pride_  
_Soar far fly away  
I'm breaking through to you  
Soar far fly away  
I'm breaking through to you  
_

And one day his fighting ended. He felt pain. Heard her angelic voice urging him to come back. He knew who he was. Remembered with anguishing clarity what had happened.

"Open your eyes, please. I need you," she said softly.

And with all his strength, his lids lifted, meeting the light of day again.

_I'm breaking through to you_

"Ange?"

"I'm here, oh God, Jack," she started sobbing.

She grasped his hand and placed her other one on his face, and together they cried.

"You came back," she choked out.

His throat tight, unable to form words, he nodded his head.

He came back.


	10. Jane

AN: Sorry for the delay. So I made it up with a long ghost story, lol.

AN2: Upates for "Boom" and "Far Away from Home" coming soon.

**Chapter Ten: Jane**

Stumbling, clenching her hands to her stomach, she struggled on. Red seeped through, staining the white dress she had on. The cottage was so close, and despite the pain, she pushed her legs harder than before. Ironically, the faster she tried to run the slower she felt herself getting. A flare of panicky fear rushed through her as she acknowledged she was getting weaker. No small wonder, she felt drenched in her own blood and the bullet and stab wounds were excruciating.

"He…isn't…going to…kill me," she gasped, as that same panic slammed back into her system.

She tripped but caught herself as she made it to the door of her ex's summer getaway. Throwing the door open she fell in, exhausted. Not even attempting to get to her feet, she crawled and pulled herself along the floor to the nearest phone in the kitchen. Along the way she passed a broken picture frame on the hardwood floor. She felt dizzy and sick, remembering what it was.

"You sick, bastard," she groaned.

When she broke up with Howard Reading two months ago, the emotionally-distant-overprotective-obsessive-stalker boyfriend, she knew she would have problems. In fact, she wasn't that surprised at his attempts to get back together again, which included chasing, calling, and even break-ins.

Her friends had urged her to call the police. She had been stupid and said she could take care of herself.

Look where that got her.

A little harmless flirting with a co-worker made Howard snap. The last thing she remembered was coming home to find the power off. There was a sudden sharp pain in her abdomen, something that sliced deeply…then she woke up in Howard's bedroom, at the summer get-away cottage.

Terrified and in pain, she tried running from the house. Howard was nowhere to be found. But no sooner had she been running toward the woods, their was a crack of gunfire and an iron-hot sledgehammer that pounded into her back. She felt the fire pass through her stomach and out of her body, two inches above the knife wound. But she wouldn't give up. Howard was more than surprised to see she only stumbled and didn't collapse. With a burning rage, he chased her. If he couldn't have her then no one would…

Now back at the cottage, she felt tears slip from her eyes as she discovered the phone was dead. Her ears picked up Howard's thudding steps on the ground as he neared the entrance, undoubtedly more furious after having to run after her in huge circle.

She was going to die. Shaking her head, she threw open one of the drawers and snatched her diary that he snatched a month ago from her house in one of his break-ins. Quickly scribbling, she made her last entry. She stuffed the journal down her chest and prayed someone would find it later.

_And I don't mind  
If you say this love is the last time  
So now I'll ask  
Do you like that?  
Do you like that?_

Howard Reading breathed heavily as he stared at her quaking and bleeding form. In his hand he held a pistol.

"Did you think I wouldn't see you? Whoring yourself like that, after all we had together? Why don't you love me anymore?"

She lifted her head and coughed, sticky black-colored blood appearing.

"Because you're a psychotic. You kill me…oh God…you kill me and I won't…won't rest until-- "

There was a sudden blast from the gun, a slam to her hear neck…and nothing.

_No…_

(10 Years Later)

_Something's getting in the way  
Something's just about to break  
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane  
So tell me how it should be_

Brennan felt sick. Like never before. She should have been in her apartment wrapped up in blankets, not in the rain. Booth watched her warily as she made her way to the bushes. She wretched out the little bit of soup Booth forced her to eat. He winced and went over to her, holding the umbrella over her head.

"You need to go home, Bones," he ordered, but his voice betrayed concern.

"I know…but Booth…"

"Why are we even out here?" Booth interrupted, and rattled off exasperatedly, "We scanned this area tenfold. We have all the evidence. We checked out that abandoned cottage. The owner died of a heart attack five years ago. All we need to identify the Jane Doe is at the Jeffersonian."

Brennan wracked her brain. Why was she out here? She had a complete skeleton at the lab and the remains of a dress. But yet…she felt like something was missing. It was irrational and she hated it.

"I'm sorry Booth. The fever I have…I just can't think straight…I don't even remember why I came out," Brennan coughed, embarrassed that she had dragged him out.

"Come on," he said gently, leading her back to the car. He wasn't worried about her condition, he was dead scared. The moment they discovered Jane Doe 921-732 she had come down with this superflu. Nothing to alleviate the sickness helped. In fact, Booth was a few heartbeats away from driving her straight to the hospital.

But yet…in the back of his mind he felt her sickness was caused by something else. He wouldn't bring himself to say it, but something felt wrong every time he came to this area. It felt like someone was watching him. And in that cottage…he shivered, remembering the cold spot, how the hairs on his arms and neck stood up.

"_DON'T LEAVE…"_

Booth whipped his head down to his partner. "What did you say?"

Brennan looked up, eyes red and watery. "You heard that, too?"

Booth paused as a rush of cold air slammed into him. He started coughing uncontrollably and sank to his knees. He felt Brennan shake him, asking what was wrong. Just as suddenly as the phenomenon started it ended, leaving a winded Booth.

"What the hell was that?" he gasped. Brennan looked at him with a fear in her eyes and she tried, "Maybe you're getting sick, too."

"I feel fine now…but God, that felt cold." Shaking his head, he rose and caught Brennan's expression.

"You felt that?"

"A draft," she said simply.

"Somehow, I highly I doubt that."

_Try to find out what makes you tick  
As I lie down  
Sore and sick  
Do you like that?  
Do you like that?_

"What are you implying?" Brennan questioned. Booth looked at her not sure if he wanted to tell her what he was thinking. He didn't have to.

"Ghosts and spirits are nothing but imaginative takes that people conjure up to ease the grief of death of loved ones," Brennan burst.

"Try saying that ten times fast."

Brennan shook her head, a heavy fog clouding her eyes.

"There's something here we forgot," she murmured softly. Booth shook his head again.

"Bones, let's go. I'm going to take you to the hospital, you're scaring me."

Resignedly, Brennan nodded. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She saw Booth's figure blur in and out. Though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew they would be filled with fear and concern of her well-being. She felt guilty putting him through all this.

And then she suddenly passed out._  
_

_There's a fine line between love and hate  
And I don't mind  
Just let me say that I like that  
I like that_

Booth saw her fall forward and he caught her. "Jesus Christ, Bones, are you okay?" His heart was in his throat as he laid her down on the grass and felt for her pulse. It was there, and to his relief strong and steady.

"Okay," he breathed out, relaxing his shaking hands. Lifting her up in his arms, he started carrying his partner the half-mile to where his car was parked on the main road.

_Brennan found herself in complete darkness. Then slowly, her surroundings focused and she felt oddly calm. She was in the foliage, where they discovered their Jane Doe. Suddenly, she was pulled about a quarter of a mile towards the west to a pile of rocks. She saw a woman come toward her in a white dress and blonde hair. The woman's blue eyes appeared dull and lifeless. Slowly, she pointed to the ground. Brennan nodded, understanding._

Brennan felt rain pound on her face. She also had the sensation she was being carried. She could feel warmth, and she felt safe. She then smelled Booth's cologne, and she figured he was close by. She remembered what just happened and she opened her eyes. Immediately she registered his arms were under her shoulders and legs. He had taken off his coat and covered her with it. He was soaked and muddy from going through the woods.

Squirming, she ordered, "Booth, put me down."

He looked at her incredulously. "Kidding me, right?" he panted.

"No."

She swung her legs over and Booth had no choice but to let her down. As soon as her feet touched the ground she sprinted off towards the west, feeling a spark of energy.

"BONES! What the hell are you doing?" Booth yelled as he followed her.

_Something's getting in the way  
Something's just about to break  
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane  
As I burn another page  
As I look the other way  
I still try to"W find my place in the diary of Jane  
So tell me how it should be_

The branches whipped her face and cut her arms. She had been running full sprint for three minutes and felt like absolute crap. The closer she got to her destination the colder the air got, and the higher she felt her fever rise. But that insane urge that came from nowhere pushed her forward and forced her to ignore Booth's shouts.

_Desperate, I will crawl  
Waiting for so long  
No love, there is no love  
Die for anyone  
What have I become_

Brennan came to a small opening where a pile of stones lay. She stopped abruptly and Booth nearly collided with her. As she caught her breath, Booth grabbed her shoulders and turned her around roughly.

"What in the hell is wrong with you, Temperance?" he demanded angrily, his jaw tight.

Soaking wet and exhausted, Brennan whispered, "I don't know."

Booth watched as her eyes glazed over and he readied himself to catch her again. Instead she dropped to her knees and started digging, clawing at the earth. Booth stepped back, confused.

"What the hell…" he trailed off. "Bones? Come on snap out of it."

"_Dig," _Brennan whispered hoarsely.

Booth watched in a daze as she continued digging. She stopped after about a foot. Pulling out a muddy and a caked book, she breathed heavily.

Looking around, she caught Booth staring. "Where the hell am I?"

_  
_  
_Something's getting in the way  
Something's just about to break  
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane  
As I burn another page  
As I look the other way  
I still try to find my place  
In the diary of Jane_

Brennan closed the diary back at the Jeffersonian. It had been a silent ride back after she convinced Booth to not take her to the hospital. She felt fine. Like she hadn't had the flu to begin with. What she did leave out was her absolute no recollection of what happened after she passed out.

There was a knock and Brennan jumped slightly. Booth came in, sneezing. Brennan smiled sadly and said sheepishly, "Sorry."

He waved his hand and sniffled, "What I get for chasing my partner in the rain."

"I…was sick."

He looked at her with bleary eyes and retorted, "And now you're suddenly better. Damn, maybe I should get possessed so I can get over this cold."

"What?! Booth, ghosts are--"

"Are nothing but stories people create after Uncle Al or the family pet dies blah blah blah," Booth interrupted.

Brennan snorted and replied, "That's not even close to what I said earlier."

"How'd you get better so soon?" he challenged.

"Viruses are unpredictable," she said simply.

"How'd you find the diary in your hands?" he asked quietly.

Brennan stared at him, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Well?"

"I don't remember, okay?"

Booth sat on the edge of the desk and started singing off key, "I got a spell on you, because you're mine…" She rolled her eyes and he added, "That old black magic, gets you every time."

Before she could hit him, he asked, "So you gonna tell me who your ghost--sorry, I meant to say, Jane Doe was?"

Brennan frowned. "Ghosts do not exist."

"Keep telling yourself that, babe."

"Look I don't remember what happened. I'm sure whatever happened was due to the fever. Now, could you please drop it?" Brennan bickered with Booth.

He threw his hands up in defeat. "Name of the Jane Doe, please?" The air grew solemn as Brennan gave Booth a picture of their Jane Doe.

"She was 21. So young. Her name was Fatina Willowburgs. From D.C."

Booth wrote down the information and Brennan continued, "I read her diary. She was in love. That seemed to be her only downfall."

"Right feelings. Just the wrong guy."

"I know what you mean," Brennan said to herself.

Booth heard her but didn't call it. She continued again, "Her last entry was dated ten years ago to the date. It's got blood on the pages so I assumed she wrote it before she died. 'My name is Fatina. Howard Reading was my murderer. Catch him.' And on the next page Howard Reading ranted about why he had to kill her. Unbelievable."

"Well. Whatever the reasons, you gave Jane a name," Booth sighed.

"Yeah…you said Howard died of a heart attack?"

"Five years ago. To the date." Booth said, his eyes studying Brennan's reaction.

"Cause?"

"Unknown. Arteries were clean."

A thick silence ascended the room.

"Well. I could use a beer right about now," Brennan said standing up.

"Best thing you said all day," Booth agreed. The two headed out, trying to leave the feeling of eeriness away.

"_Thank you…"_

"I didn't hear that," Booth said quickly.

"Me neither," Brennan quickly agreed.

"Good."

"Good."


	11. Swallowing Dramamine

AN: I highly suggest listening to the song, it's definitely worth it. Lyrics are "Dramamine" by Modest Mouse.

AN2: And I'm so seeing them in concert August 19th XD!

**Chapter Eleven: Swallowing Dramamine**

"Mr. Brennan, I'm afraid I'll need a decision by tomorrow morning."

The voice was cool, unconcerned. It made him clench the phone tightly in anger. How the hell was he supposed to make a choice like this? Did the social worker even care that two lives were about to change forever?

Remembering to keep his voice down, so not to wake his little sister, 19-year-old Russ answered, "Fine. You'll have your damned answer tomorrow." He hung up, trembling. These past two weeks were the hardest times in his life. And quite frankly, he was almost ready to snap. Throwing himself onto the couch, he stared blankly at the television. His parents were dead. Though there was no confirmation, no bodies or news, Russ just knew.

Which obviously meant they weren't coming back.

His thoughts strayed to his sister, young Tempe who slept fitfully upstairs. It was up to Russ, who had yet to become a man, to decide whether or not he could handle raising her…or if she'd be better in foster care, like everyone around him was quietly hinting.

Groaning, he remembered Tempe's reaction when he tried to bring Christmas for her.

_He had actually felt happy, the first time since their parents disappeared. The presents were wrapped neatly and placed under the tree. Yes, he felt pangs of sorrow, due to the fact his parents were gone, and that he had to search through their room to get the presents…but Tempe would be happy. That's all he wanted. He could give her a close-to-normal Christmas._

_Russ heard her run, practically sprint down the stairs. He stepped back, showing the tree and waited for her blue eyes to sparkle and her mouth to smile. But none of that ever came. Instead she asked, and what Russ would remember as the most disappointed voice in the world, "Russ…where's Mom and Dad?"_

_She had thought the noise was from them. All that awaited her was himself. And disappointment. _

Reaching back to the phone, Russ dialed a number, not caring anymore.

A slurred voice answered, "Yeah?"

"Cari, it's Russ. I'm coming over."

_Traveling, swallowing Dramamine  
Feeling spaced, breathing out Listerine  
I'd said what I'd said that I'd tell ya  
And that you'd killed the better part of me  
If you could just milk it for everything  
I've said what I'd said and you know what I mean  
But I still can't focus on anything  
We kiss on the mouth but still cough down our sleeves..._

Spaced out, wild images sped through his mind. He vaguely remembered his girlfriend handing him the pills wordlessly when he arrived at her doorstop. He needed to escape…

"_Russ!"_

Russ jerked awake, lying sprawled on Cari's bed. The room spun around him, and as he tried to stand, he tripped on his own feet. Landing hard, he couldn't help but laugh at how heavy his legs felt.

"_Is this what you have to offer your little sister? You'll destroy her."_

He knew the voice was coming from his head, and he didn't care if it was part of his imagination. The person speaking was his father.

"Dad, I can't take care of her…"

"_I told you to protect her. Look at you!"_

"Russ, baby? Who ya talking to?" Cari asked, crawling next to Russ.

Laughing, crying, Russ replied, "I dunno." Rising to unsteady feet, he burst out angrily, "I can't take care of Tempe! I'm only 19 and…I dunno…"

He started making his way towards the door, and Cari numbly asked, "Where ya goin' babe?"

"Getting outta this nightmare," Russ mumbled, his face contorted with grief and sheer confusion.

_  
Traveling, swallowing Dramamine  
Look at your face like you're killed in a dream  
And you think you've figured out everything  
I think I know my geometry pretty damn well  
You say what you need so you'll get more  
If you could just milk it for everything  
I've said what I said and you know what I mean  
But I can't still focus on anything ..._

He didn't remember how he made it back to the house. The sunlight had started to peek through the curtains, shining directly onto his face. Groaning, he lifted his head off the floor. A soft creaking brought his attention to the stairway. He saw Tempe, looking down on him, clutching the banister tightly.

"Russ, are you okay?"

Sighing, he got to his feet. "Yeah, I'm fine, Tempe."

He saw her concern turn to disgust. "You did it again."

"Did what?" he asked, his face flushing as red as blood.

"That thing. Where you go insane at Cari's. I can smell the drug from here, Russ. It's all over you--"

"I'm sorry! Things haven't been easy you, know!" Russ cut her off, screaming. He never did that to her. Even when he found her annoying, he never raised his voice to his little sister. He was supposed to protect her, not scare her. His heart breaking, he saw Tempe's eyes widen. She backed up the stairs, tears brimming her eyes.

"Stay away from me," he heard her sniffle.

Taking a step forward, he guiltily whispered, "Tempe, I'm so sorry…"

She ran back to her room, the door slamming in the silent house. Desperate to get through to her, he called out, "Marco!"

'Polo' never answered.

Resisting the urge to throw something out the window, Russ sat heavily onto the floor. "I can't do this. God, I can't…" he murmured, placing his head in his hands. He realized he needed to make a decision. That woman from social services with a heart as cold as ice, no sympathy…he just hoped to high Heaven that Tempe's foster parents would be better.

And then the phone rang.

* * *

AN: Dramamine is an over the counter drug, and when abused it causes the user to enter a confused high and have hallucinations. 


	12. No White Flag Here

_**AN: Pure angst/fluff ahead betwixt our favorite non-couple. I guess some OOC is to follow, but call it creative licensing when putting these two together. Song is "White Flag" by Dido.**_

**Chapter Twelve: No White Flag Here**

Even before Brennan saw him enter, she could feel his eyes upon her back. She sucked in a breath, the same old butterflies rising in her stomach as he came closer. She hadn't felt like this since they had broken up. Or since he was temporarily loaned out to the Los Angeles FBI wing for two months. Now Booth was back. And Brennan wasn't sure of what to do next.

_I know you think that I shouldn't still love you,_

_Or tell you that._

_But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it_

_Where's the sense in that?_

Leaning over the current set of remains on the platform, Brennan's mind wandered to the past. Their getting together was…unexpected. Or to her at least. Angela had been thrilled when she saw Booth passionately kiss Brennan in the rain, after nailing a serial killer. She had been put in danger: he thought he had almost lost his best friend. In what Brennan called, 'the heat of the moment' Booth had thrown all caution to the wind and declared his feelings.

To his surprise and utter happiness, Brennan had felt the same way.

The memory of his lips on hers burned her face, just as his footsteps came up the stairs to her lab area. She heard him clear his voice and say awkwardly, "Bones…how are you?"

Brennan released the breath she had been holding and turned around. Smiling tightly, she answered, "Hi, Booth. I'm doing good. Glad to see you back."

Booth offered a small smile in return, no doubt thinking about the last time they saw each other. Though Brennan would never call him on it, she believed he got cold feet when he dumped her. He had said something about endangering their partnership--Cullen would have had him reassigned. While fighting back the tears, Brennan had tried to tell him it didn't matter. His answer only added the fact that criminals could use her now to get to him, though, she believed that was a possibility long before they started a relationship, one that she may add as ardent, fiery, and loving.

Not to mention he was the best she ever had in bed.

"So…what do we have?" Booth asked, breaking her out of the reverie. He indicated to the body on the table.

_Okay…so he wants to avoid 'us'. Fine. _Brennan paused, studying him for a moment. She couldn't tell how he felt now, ergo, she was never good at reading people. And she figured, resignedly, that she never will--especially Booth. Moving on, she began, "We have a female, late twenties with a shattered ulna and fractured wrists, indicating self-defense…"

_I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder_

_Or return to where we were…_

"Right," Booth muttered under his breath as Brennan continued. They were right back to where they started. But he wasn't sure if he liked it.

_I will go down with this ship_

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be._

She knew the car ride would be unbearable. Even though the short distance to their suspect's house equaled to that of a mere ten minutes, sitting in the passenger seat without uttering a single word nearly murdered her. His eyes were focused on the road, and hers were planted to her feet. She understood that they could never be a couple again, but it didn't mean she wouldn't stop loving him. She figured that in time, just like all her other wounds, Booth's cut would heal.

_I know I left too much mess and_

_Destruction to come back again_

_And I caused nothing but trouble_

_I understand if you can't talk to me again_

_And if you live by the rules of "it's over"_

_Then I'm sure that, that makes sense_

A small part of her screamed to not give up, however. Shaking the notion away, she knew that what Booth had said two months ago was partly true. She began to wonder if he ended the relationship because he couldn't bear to see anything bad happening to her, just like Cam. She ventured a look, and saw that his hand was still clenched tightly to the wheel, and his jaw was twitching with stress. Brennan looked away and closed her eyes. If he broke up with her out of love, then what the hell was he feeling now?

_I will go down with this ship_

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be_

Brennan missed the looks of longing Booth passed her during questioning at the suspect's house.

_And when we meet_

_Which I'm sure we will_

_All that was there_

_Will be there still_

_I'll let it pass_

_And hold my tongue_

_And you will think_

_That I've moved on…_

He saw the sudden movement before she did. The suspect's hand whipped to his coat pocket and drew a handgun. Reaching for his own, Booth realized that Brennan was to be the target. He stepped in front of her without hesitating and pulled the trigger the same moment the suspect did. Brennan was in the process of standing when the gunshots blasted her eardrums. She saw the suspect grab his arm and scream in pain. Dropping his weapon, the gun skittered across the floor. Brennan picked it up immediately, her teeth gritting, and she growled, "Stay on the floor, and don't think that _I_ won't shoot you!"

She looked to Booth, and her mouth dropped after finding him on the floor, his legs sprawled under him and his hand outstretched. She quickly registered that Booth's gun wasn't the only one that fired a bullet. Disregarding the bleeding suspect, she knelt next to Booth, her heart leaping out of her chest. He was lying on his side, and his eyes were shut tightly in a frozen expression of pain.

"Oh, no," Brennan cried as she turned him over. "Don't do this, I just got you back…"

To her bewilderment, she saw no blood. He coughed suddenly and his eyes fluttered open. She stared at him with her mouth agape. He sat up slowly, his hand pressed tightly to the ribs over his heart. Breathing shakily, he grunted out, "Vest on. Holy hell, that really hurt."

Brennan sat back, relief, anger, and indignation quickly overcoming shock. "I saw him moving, Booth, I could have gotten outof the way! I'm not blind! What if he aimed for your head instead of your chest, huh?"

Booth looked at her evenly and stood up on slightly wobbly legs. Pulling out handcuffs for the suspect, he whispered sadly, "This is why we broke up."

Retorting quickly, "No, you did the breaking up part. Did it ever occur to you that I wanted no part--and still don't want any part of that?" Brennan's voice shook.

"You saw what happened now, you could have been killed!"

"But not because we were together! What's the term you use to describe idiocy, Booth? Oh, yes--you dumbass! He tried to shoot at me because I was your partner, not because he knew I still loved you," Brennan slipped out.

Booth paused before radioing in an ambulance. His eyes grew dark and he replied steadily, "Then maybe we shouldn't be partners anymore."

_I will go down with this ship_

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be._

_I will go down with this ship..._

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be._

_I will go down with this ship..._

_And I won't put my hands up and surrender_

_There will be no white flag above my door_

_I'm in love and always will be..._

Brennan stalked out to her car, after giving her statement to other agents on what happened in the house. She hadn't seen nor spoken to Booth since then, and she almost didn't care. She didn't know what was going to happen now. Would they be partners still? Probably not, since she let slip the fact that she still loved him. The clouds above her were dark and threatening, and she knew by the change in air that the heavens would pour any second. No sooner than the thought crossed her mind a deafening crack of thunder erupted and hail pounded around her. Groaning and picking up her pace to the shelter of her vehicle, a voice begged her to stop.

"Bones! Wait! I need to talk to you about today!" Booth called out to her, heedless of the thunder and rain.

Brennan picked up her speed even more, yelling back, "Not now, Booth."

Booth jogged to catch up to her, and as she opened her car door, he slammed it shut. She whipped around and fired off, "What do you want! It's pouring, I'm getting wet, and I want you to leave me be!"

Booth didn't step back, but he fumbled for something to say. "I…I uh, wanted to make sure you were okay."

Brennan deadpanned and snorted, "I wasn't the one who got shot."

Opening her door again, Booth didn't try to stop Brennan. He burst suddenly, "I'm sorry, Bones."

She paused and her shoulders slumped. She looked back to him and answered quietly, "Me too."

Turning away, she was stopped yet again by Booth. He grabbed her arm and turned her towards him. Before she could ask what the hell he was doing, he leaned down and kissed her hard. Brennan reacted without thinking and parted her lips, exploring his mouth with familiarity and hunger. His hands traveled up her now-soaked back and hers pulled his head further down. He pressed her against the car, almost causing her to fall into the seat. She would have laughed, if she hadn't had such a hard time breathing. His hands were now tangled in her drenched hair, and the rain continued to fall steady on them. It was just like the first time he kissed her... She broke the kiss suddenly, her lips now swollen. He grimaced, almost as if he were preparing to get his ass kicked. She demanded suddenly, "Please tell me you're balking on not being my partner anymore?"

He gave her a lopsided smile before answering, "This is definitely balking. Tempe, I'm so sorry for--"

"Later," Brennan interrupted. She pulled his head down again for another kiss, murmuring, "Angela's going to flip."


	13. Rebecca

_**AN:**__** This is rated a big fat 'T'. Song is (Can't Get My) Head Around You by the Offspring. Thanks for all the reviews!**_

**Chapter Thirteen: Rebecca**

_Black Cat Club, 1998..._

She had completely thrown him off his guard. The throbbing, beating music in the club still blasted from overhead stereos, and the crowd of dancing men and women continued to pulsate life, but Seeley Booth could feel his heart and body freeze. Swathed in an eerie yellow glow, the woman who stole Booth's attention sat at the bar, turned sideways with one slender leg draped over the other. Wearing tight washed out blue jeans and a pale purple silk halter top, she was absolutely stunning. His eyes raked up her exposed back, following it up to the gentle curves of her neck and thick, long, blonde hair. She turned her head slightly, and Booth could have sworn he saw her smirk at him after making brief eye contact. Weaving his way through the moving mass of bodies, Booth took a seat next to the woman, debating on his next course of action. Without a doubt, she had had numerous lousy pick-up lines tonight, and the last thing Booth wanted was to be cast-off as another jerk wanting a lay…even though he was aiming to accomplish that in the first place…She spoke suddenly, surprising Booth momentarily. "I was wondering when you were going to come over here."

Booth flashed his biggest charm smile and replied smoothly, "Beautiful woman like yourself, I figured you'd be too good for me."

She sipped red wine and said, "Maybe I am." Mischief flashed in her hazel orbs and Booth felt a surge of heat.

He offered his hand and introduced himself coyly, "My name's Seeley Booth. What's yours, sweetheart?"

A grin tugged at her lips as she scanned over his body. Finishing her wine, she took his hand and answered, "I'm Rebecca. Rebecca Stinson." Her cheeks glowed red when Booth lifted her hand and gently brushed his lips on her fingers.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Stinson."

_Deep inside your soul there's a hole you don't want to see,  
Every single day what you say makes no sense to me,  
Even though I try, I can't get my head around you….  
_

_**Booth's apartment, 2000**_

"What the hell--"

Booth ducked as Rebecca line-drived a coffee cup at his head. It shattered against the wall and Booth jumped back as she advanced onto him.

"Almost a year! A year I've lived with you! I could get past the fact that you were a sniper, and even though it scares the living hell out of me that you work the field as an agent, I dealt with the fear of you not coming home--but this--this is insanity!"

"Jesus Christ, Rebecca, I never retired from the Army, they need me--" Booth tried to defend himself.

"What? To go shoot someone in the heart or in between the eyes?" Rebecca snapped. "Don't look at me like that--I know what that letter was about. But you can't even tell me where you're going, or how long--"

"What do you want me to do about it?" Booth gritted out.

"To not expect me to be here when you get back," she hissed.

"Oh, bull-" But by then Rebecca picked up a hardback book and flung it at Booth. Unprepared, it nicked across the side of his head, tearing open skin. He stumbled back, almost tripping on her suitcases. Becoming infuriated, he released an audible growl, and Rebecca's face fell ashen. Losing control, Booth stepped forward and grabbed her arms. She became very still as he breathed harshly, ignoring the thin trail of blood running down his cheek, "There is nothing I can do. Nothing."

She started to struggle and without realizing it, Booth firmly pressed his lips against hers. She let out a muffled gasp but responded immediately and pressed his head against hers. Suddenly she jerked back and went to slap him, but Booth caught her hand in mid-flight. He shoved her against the wall and Rebecca let her hand drop as she instead started to lift his shirt while he fumbled with the zipper on her jeans….

_Somewhere in the night there's a light in front of me,  
Heaven up above with a shove, abandons me,  
And even though I try I fall in the river of you,  
You've managed to bring me down too…._

He sat across from her on the living room carpet, staring at her luggage by the door. She yanked her shirt back on and stood up, slightly shaky. Tucking back strands of hair, she murmured, "I'm not coming back." She grabbed her belongings and left Booth alone.

And somehow, he knew she wasn't lying.

_All your faking (Get up, Get up, Get up, Get up)….  
Shows you're aching (Get up, Get up, Get up)…._

He'd been gone one month, but during that single month he felt a dull ache, knowing she would be gone. And when he stepped back into his apartment, he could do nothing more than let his army bag drop heavily to the floor and collapse against the doorway. He'd shot someone through the heart from fifteen hundred feet in Guatemala for the government, and all he wanted now was to hold someone he loved. He blew it.

_Every single day what you say makes no sense to me,  
Lettin' you inside isn't right, you'll mess with me,  
I'll never really know what's really going on inside you,  
I can't get my head around you….  
_

And then she called one day.

"Seeley…I need you to come over. Something's wrong…" Her voice distraught and filled with strain…and something else. Regret. And if Booth didn't know any better, he couldn't hear a trace of hate. Rubbing his hand over his face, he exhaled softly.

"Yeah, give me twenty minutes."

_All your feeding (Get up, Get up, Get up, Get up)….  
Shows you're bleeding (Get up, Get up, Get up)…._

It turned blue. The stick turned blue. It meant Rebecca was pregnant. It meant Booth would be a father. He sat on the bed next to Rebecca, at a loss for words. He clasped her hand and she slumped back. "When I left…we didn't use a condom."

Booth nodded, remembering. He turned her face gently towards and him and asked, his eyes pleading, "Do you forgive me for that day?"

She shook her head slowly, and rasped, "Yes."

"Then I have to ask you a question."

_Deep inside your soul there's a hole you don't want to see,  
covering it up like a cut with the likes of me,  
You know I've really tried, I can't do any more about you…  
_

"Will you marry me?"

_(Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaah) The cut's getting deeper…._

Rebecca bit her bottom lip and let go of Booth's hands. She shook her head, tears ready to spill out. Booth already knew what the answer would be.

"I can't…I'm sorry, Seeley."

_(Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaah) The hill's getting steeper…._

Booth nodded and stood. "Okay…" he was shocked to find his voice cracking because he knew, he just knew in his gut that he would see little of the child she was carrying. He could feel her pushing him away even now, and the future scared him.

"Look…I-I-have to go. I'm sorry. Please call me, later…please…" Booth whispered as he left Rebecca.

She never did.

_I guess I'll never know what's really going on inside you,  
I can't get my head around you,  
I can't get my head around you,  
I can't get my head around you,  
I can't get my head around you…._


	14. Chapter 14

Due to tragic events, the author of this fanfic will not be able to post any new chapters for several weeks. Thank you and apologies for any inconveniences.


	15. They

_AN: Post WitW. Song is "Empty Spaces" by Pink Floyd_

**Chapter Fifteen: They**

_"What shall we use to fill the empty spaces,  
Where we used to talk?  
How shall I fill the final places?  
How shall I complete the wall?"_

They won. Don't quite know who they are. Or is.

At first I believed it when people told me I had walls. Then I ignored it. Then I told them they were wrong. Then I believed myself when I actually said it.

Because that had been the past. I had him. As a partner. A friend. And so much more.

It didn't matter.

But they got me now. Still don't know what or who the "they" is.

People remind me that it was Pam. She was just an instrument. They won. One second everything is good and sacred. Then they take it away. One minute you think he's going to pull through. Then they make him die in your arms.

It's irrational. They. Hah!

I think this is what they call a breakdown. I call it an epiphany. "They" isn't a person. Or a thing. It just is.

Fate.

A series of unfortunate events.

Statistics.

God. If He exists.

Doesn't matter if I do come up with the solution to this vast, vast problem. I'm an empty space in a wall, or perhaps a wall alone in an empty space. Not complete. Always alone.

No more talking now.

They're still here. Always here.


End file.
